


Solace

by ForestFiresong



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestFiresong/pseuds/ForestFiresong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, Takumi and Corrin actually do share a lot of similarities, such as self-loathing, numerous regrets, and violent nightmares that have plagued them both since they were children.</p>
<p>And, of course, the tendency to not tell anyone about any of it.</p>
<p>A story of how Corrin starts to suffer from her childhood nightmares again and how Takumi is a surprisingly good brother after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since reading Takumi's "As Fate Would Have It" about him having the worst nightmares in the army, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I thought he was a douche at the beginning of the game, but it turns out he can be pretty lovable too (but still a douche). Anyway, I'm almost finished with Birthright, and I think this fic probably takes place around chapter 16 or so.   
> But yeah, I'm really loving this game, and all of these fluffy (angsty) sibling interactions, so I might write more fics for it eventually! Anyway, thank you for reading~

It’s been days and Corrin still feels like she's years younger, a small child in a large, dark place, clinging and crying out for something, anything, as she drifts in and out of the verges of sleep. It’s reminiscent of her early childhood, where she can’t remember a night that wasn’t restless or a sleep that didn’t have her lurching forward, slick with sweat and almost screaming from some unseeable horrors. Now, she thinks, it must’ve been her darkest fears crawling her mind-- maybe memories of Sumeragi falling before her, gushing blood as strangers surrounded her. It is only now that she’s starting to realize and recognize those faint memories that always populated her nightmares, and she can’t decide whether the knowing makes it easier or not. 

But there had always been some small comfort; someone who comforted her, whether it was Jakob or Felicia or Flora or most commonly, Camilla, who would take her into her arms and stroke her hair until the motion had soothed Corrin back into sleep again. That is one of her earliest memories of her sister, and even now it’s the safest place Corrin has ever been, and one that she secretly longs for even in adulthood. 

Because now, in Hoshido, she’s alone. Well-- that isn’t entirely true. Jakob and Felicia are still there, but too much has changed for their roles as her childhood comforters to come back. She leads an army now, one that looks to her for support, and she can’t be crying every night, wishing for comfort from the very people everyone in camp hates. Even with new siblings and allies and friends, when night comes Corrin is the same child who would wake up screaming every night in her Nohrian castle, and that isn’t acceptable. 

Not when she spends the day time clutching a sword and leading the troops into battle. 

One night, before she goes to sleep, Jakob asks, his air one of concern, if she’s all right, because she’s been looking tired, and if something has been disturbing her sleep then it must be put to a stop immediately and he can--

“It’s fine,” Corrin says, because she was almost going to cling to him desperately but she’s grown up now, and there’s no crying or getting attached anymore because they’re at _war_ and she’ll see worse than a couple of blurry memories from her past. “I’ve been sleeping perfectly fine.”

“If you say so,” he replies, and dutifully retreats, but he’s worried and she can tell as he slips away to meet with Felicia’s waiting silhouette. Corrin shakes her head. She’s not a child anymore. She doesn’t want to be. The nightmares will pass, she’s sure of it. It’s a matter of getting through it, of getting stronger.

So she sleeps, and so it begins.

x-x-x

Something’s different this time.

Corrin can tell as soon as her feelings of the real world begin to intersect with those of her dream, and she can feel a rough sensation pressing down on her shoulders even as the fragments of her dream flash before her eyes and her mind stays firmly rooted in its own surreal creation.

It’s only when the sound reaches her ears does she rouse completely.

“Hey… hey, come on, wake up already! You--” the voice stops, and Corrin blinks, darkness and sleep obscure her vision before she can make out the figure crouching over her, the light of the glowing blue arrow strapped over his back illuminating his face. 

“...Takumi?”

He pulls back. “You’re awake… Are you okay? I thought you were being murdered or something.” 

“I…” Corrin stops, and feels like the air is being sucked out of her chest. She must’ve been screaming, but even worse, it was _Takumi_ who heard her. He already thought she was weak, and probably mistrusted her still, and _Oh God why_. Against her better judgment tears spring to Corrin’s eyes, and she tries to scrub them away. “I’m fine. I had a bad dream, but…”

“Hey,” Takumi crouches down next to her, and Corrin looks away. She doesn’t know what to expect from him, but braces herself anyway. To her surprise, his tone comes out gentler than she’d thought he was capable of-- gentler than she’d ever heard him. “Are you really okay? You look pretty upset.”

“It’s fine. I’m used it.” Corrin almost bites her tongue for making such an admission, but something about the dark and the quiet and the way Takumi has lost the edge that always accompanies his tone is making her more honest. It’s dangerous.

But once again she’s surprised. Takumi is staring at her, eyes shining faintly in the half light, and he’s still using that same tone as he speaks, like she’s a small child who needs to be handled carefully. “You’re used to it? How often does this happen?”

Corrin weighs the options of admitting to such weakness, but something about Takumi’s softer disposition makes her own guard go down. No matter how many walls of pride she’s built, Corrin has to admit that she’s tired, in more ways than one.

Having someone to confide could be helpful, even.

“It was bad when I was little,” she confesses. “Almost every night. I haven’t had nightmares as bad as that… until now.” She shifts her gaze away. “The war’s made them worse, I think.”

The air is quiet for a few moments, and then a soft _thump_ sounds as Takumi settles down beside her, looking off into the distance. Fujin Yumi casts a faint glow on his face as he says, voice low, “Me too.”

Corrin blinks at the unexpected confession, not sure she entirely heard her brother right. “You get nightmares often as well?”

“Yeah.” Takumi rubs the side of his neck, an embarrassed gesture. It’s almost cute. She thinks that he shouldn’t be embarrassed, but he does claim to be “the strong one in the family” and puts on such a bold facade that she knows admitting such a thing must be difficult. “Just like you… I’ve been having them since I was little, and especially now.”

“Huh,” Corrin says, and then laughs, low and soft. “I guess we are related after all.”

“Of course we are!” Takumi says, before dropping his indignant tone with a sigh. “Anyway, you don’t have to hide it from me. I know how bad they can be.”  
This is the last thing Corrin would ever expect to hear, but it’s a welcome surprise nonetheless. “That’s very sweet of you, Takumi.”

“Yeah, well…I know it must be hard for you. Being away from… that place.” The way Takumi is talking, it’s clear that the further away from Nohrians he is, the better. But his fumbling attempts at sympathy lift the weight in Corrin’s chest, if only a little. “But that’s what your dreams are about, aren’t they? Nohr, I mean.”

“You’re right. Or at least, they are now.” Corrin pauses. “I used to have dreams about Hoshido, actually. I didn’t know it at the time. But looking back at it now… it’s like my memories were trying to resurface. Now…” she sighs.

“It’s mostly my siblings… my other siblings,” she looks hesitantly for his reaction, but Takumi is watching her, expression intent and serious. “I’ve been thinking… well, no. It’s stupid.”

“You can tell me,” Takumi says immediately, and then stops. “I mean, if you want to.”

“No, well, it’s…” Corrin hesitates again, not knowing if she’s ready to bare her soul… or part of it, at least. But the nagging fear and worry from the remnants of her earlier nightmare eat at her, and it’s been so many days and nights that she knows she’ll end up having a breakdown mid-battle if she doesn’t tell someone, _anyone_ about the regrets that have been amassing since the day she made that fateful choice.

And if she can’t trust Takumi, her own brother, then it begs the question of who can she trust.

“It’s just… I know they must hate me now, and I can’t blame them, but I can’t help but look forward to my dreams sometimes…” her eyes begin to prick with tears. “Because I know it’s the only place I’ll be able to see them outside of battle. And because I’m scared the next time we’ll meet…”

“Corrin…” 

She rubs stubbornly at her eyes, but a few more tears leak out. This is not going as planned, but she can’t stop, even as her voice begins to waver. “I know how it ends, Takumi. I know there’s only one way to end this war, and it’s going to be between me and Xander, and Garon… and I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t if I can see any more people die because of me. And especially not any of my siblings.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Takumi’s expression is pained. “We can take out Garon without hurting anybody else. Come on, have some faith in the rest of us. You’re not carrying this army alone.”

Corrin shakes her head. “We can try, but…” her voice breaks. “I know I’m just going to have facing them in battle, over and over again, until someone gives. But in a way, it’s better if they fight me. If they hate me. Because I don’t know what Garon would do to them if they disobeyed their orders, but I know what he’s capable of…”

Takumi clenches his fist, looking away, and Corrin feels a sob swell in her throat. She tries to contain it, but Takumi hears her and looks over, eyebrows raised in concern.

“Corrin…?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, having so many things to apologize for that she doesn’t know which particular one she’s addressing. “It’s my fault… it’s my fault that Queen Mikoto died, and that you’re having nightmares again, and all of this-- it should’ve been me, instead of her-!”

She’s cut off when Takumi suddenly lurches forward, grabbing her shoulders so they’re staring directly into each other’s eyes. There’s glint of tears in Takumi’s eyes, too, and he’s biting his lip and filled with the familiar angry zeal she’s used to seeing from him.

“Don’t say that!” He says, his voice rising so that Corrin is almost afraid the rest of camp will hear. “We need you-- _I_ need you. Mother knew what she was doing! Don’t you dare let her sacrifice go to waste!”

The words ring and then settle in the air between them, loaded in the quietness of the night surrounding them. Corrin blinks, registers his words, and then begins to cry, in the real, shoulder-shaking way, her carefully concealed tears from earlier dripping down her cheeks.

Takumi looks alarmed for a second; his eyes widen and he releases her shoulders with a start. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-- please don’t cry--”

“No, no…” Corrin wipes her eyes, trying to settle the shakes in her chest. “Y-you’re right, I shouldn’t… I can’t be thinking this way, not after Queen Mikoto… Mother…” the words get lost in a sea of choked up mumbles, and Takumi heaves a deep breath.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time.” And then, unexpectedly, he pulls her to his side, an action much gentler than the one only a few moments before. “It’s ok to cry like this, you know.”

“You should cry sometimes too, Takumi,” Corrin sniffs, leaning against his shoulder. He’s warm and reminds her of how she would sometimes fall asleep against Leo while sitting with him in the palace garden, listening to him read one of his many books aloud at her request.

The tears trickle warm down her cheek still, but she can’t tell if they’re happy or sad anymore.

“H-hell no,” Takumi stutters. “I’m too old for that.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot to deal with… a lot more than anyone in camp, honestly. Except for maybe Ryoma. But…” he awkwardly gives her shoulder another pat. “We’ll make it through. I promise.”

Corrin sniffs. The silence stretches comfortably between them for several long moments while her crying and breathing settle, and then she speaks again. “Takumi?”

“What?”

“Do you think I made the right choice?”

He pauses, his body stiffening. “...I think that’s something only you can know.”

“I see…”

“But I’m glad that you made the choice that you did, at least.”

That brings a smile to Corrin’s face, the broadest and most genuine one she’s had in what feels like a long time. “Thank you, Takumi. You’re a good brother.”

He looks away and even in the low light, Corrin can tell that he’s blushing as he mumbles some semblance of “thanks”. It’s hard to believe this is the same person who seemed to hate and distrust her so, and who always spoke with a bluntness that punctuated even his most kindly-placed words. But if there’s anything Corrin has learned since her naive childhood days, it was the idea that people are infinitely more complex than you may assume at first glance. And this is certainly the case with her younger brother, she thinks as she glances sideways at him and wonders how many nights he’s spent sleepless and how many insecurities he must conceal behind his contrary exterior.

If tonight is any indication, she’ll have many more days and nights to find out. 

But for now, Takumi shifts beside her. “You should probably sleep,” he says. “You know Jakob will be waking you up early tomorrow.”

“You’re right--” Corrin pauses. “You’re supposed to be on patrol, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I disrupted--”

“It’s fine,” Takumi interjects. “Oboro was supposed to take it after me, and she usually starts early since she cleans so late at night… my shift should be over by now.”

“Still… you should be sleeping, anyway.” Corrin rubs her eyes, where the wet remnants of tears linger in her eyelids. It is late and they will have to be on the march tomorrow, and yet the prospect of going to sleep still sends a nervous tremor through her body, fragments of ice forming in her stomach at the very thought. 

“You’re right,” Takumi begins to rise, and then pauses. When he speaks, it’s in a tone that could almost be considered shy. “Do you want me to… stay with you?”

Her immediate mental response is _yes_ followed by her natural wariness screaming _no_. Corrin smiles wryly. “You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

“No, if you want me to, I can.”

Corrin shakes her head. “I--”

“It’ll… help me too.”

She pauses, and then it suddenly, everything makes sense, like why Takumi always volunteers for patrols late at night and how she sometimes catches him dozing off when he should be inspecting weapons or in a council meeting. And she thinks about his unwavering pride and how the both of them really are so stubborn and unwilling to show weakness to others. 

So maybe this weakness is something they can only share with each other.

“All right,” she agrees, and Takumi probably dons a look of relief but she tries not to notice because he’d probably get indignant if she pointed anything out. “Thank you… honestly, you’d have no idea that I was your big sister, from the way I’m acting.” Corrins smiles sadly. “I’m sorry I can’t be stronger for you.”

Takumi leans back, closing his eyes even though it’s clear he has no intention of sleeping, at least not yet. “...You’ve already helped me enough,” he mumbles. “Now go to sleep.”

Corrin lets out a small sigh, but can’t help but feel contentment swell in her chest at his words. And a few minutes later, when she notices that Takumi has already fallen asleep, she brushes his hair off of his forehead and then falls asleep as well, with a peacefulness the likes of which she hasn’t felt in years.


End file.
